


Gunpowder and Rose

by Aenaria



Series: Interesting Times [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (though none of the kids are Bucky and Nat's), Assassins In Love, F/M, Fluff, Kidfic, Series, Slice of Life, idk how to tag this, maybe? - Freeform, shieldshock is a part of the universe though there is none in this story specifically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 01:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aenaria/pseuds/Aenaria
Summary: Bucky’s no stranger to having unexpected guests drop in on him throughout his life, though it’s happened less and less since he’d retired from the life of being an internationally infamous assassin.  Some guests, however, are far more welcome than others.A little ficlet that happens almost immediately following ‘The Truth Is Out There’.





	Gunpowder and Rose

**Author's Note:**

> A few people were worried that Bucky was all alone in the woods up there without any company or affection. That’s...not exactly the case. There’s no plot whatsoever in here, but hopefully this little bit of fluff makes you smile. Thanks for reading!

Sometime in January, 2032…

 

The snow’s falling softly as Bucky drives down the dirt road to his cabin, ice and rocks crunching under the large wheels of the Jeep.  Frankie’s asleep in the back seat, head pillowed on furry paws, and all Bucky really wants at this point is to be at home in his own bed, curled up with a book and some quiet time.  He adores Steve’s family, wholly and undoubtedly, but there’s no question that they can be overwhelming sometimes, even by Steve’s own admission. And after spending a month with them, he’s all too ready to retreat to his hidey-hole in the woods.

Sometimes he wonders if that makes him antisocial, if it’s a step back in his recovery (which has been going on for years, now).  But the fact that he can go out and function in the world like a human who hasn’t been through what he’s been, is a triumph that he has to remind himself of.  You can’t go back, but at least you can keep going forward.

Bucky squints through the windshield of the Jeep as he approaches the clearing where the cabin is, noticing that the lights are on, blaring warm and golden into the woods.  He stops the car further away from where he normally does, because he knows damn well he didn’t leave the lights on for a month. Frankie whines softly behind him, and Bucky waves a hand at her, hoping that she gets the message.  He reaches under the seat, probing around until he finds the fingerprint reader that opens the compartment where he keeps his handgun loaded and at the ready. 

Even now, some skills come all too easily to him, and he slips through the darkness silently, a shadow that has the potential to be highly deadly.  He makes it up to his front door, and out of the corner of his eye he can see a rustling of the curtains through one of the windows. Whoever they are, they’re not being very subtle, Bucky thinks.  Down by the base of the door, there’s a miniscule shiny red disk, a sequin, that gleams like a gemstone in the lights from inside. This is enough for Bucky to put the safety back on the gun, because he’s got a strong feeling about who’s lurking on the other side of the door and she wants him to know she’s there.

The next clue comes as he slowly opens the door, hinges creaking as it swings wide.  There’s a certain perfume in the air, gunpowder and roses, burned florals that linger and swirl with an acrid edge.  Bucky can only barely skim the living room of the cabin for anything that’s out of place before a well placed foot catches his kneecap, and a few moves later he’s face down on the floor with an elbow digging into his back and a solid weight perched over his hips.

“You know, Nat, if you really wanted to surprise me you could have just brought me flowers,” Bucky grumbles, resisting the urge to bash his forehead against the hardwood floor.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Natasha replies, and it’s all too easy to hear the shark’s smile in her voice.

**********

“You’re hurt,” Bucky says, leaning against the dresser as he watches Natasha lift up the edge of her tank top to reveal a nasty gash on her ribs.  It’s scabbed over somewhat, but it’s still surrounded by raw red patches and purplish bruising that’s spread against her pale skin. 

“It’s just a scratch.”  Natasha grabs a damp towel from the nightstand, pressing it against the wound.  “Besides, you know I’m tougher than I look,” she fires back with a grin. God only knows what the Red Room shot her up with that’s keeping her young and fighting fresh decades after they first met, but it’s at least a measure of comfort to Bucky, that knowledge that she can take what’s dished out in her line of work.  

“Still.”  Bucky disappears for a moment and comes back with a can of antiseptic spray, some gauze, and tape.  

Natasha doesn’t hesitate, just nods, then strips off her top and lies back in the pillows.  There’s a soft whine from Frankie, who settles down along her uninjured side and nuzzles in as Natasha strokes the soft fur behind her ears.  Her other arm stretches above her head, exposing the torn skin fully and making her wince with the tug of it. Bucky takes over the cleaning, gently dabbing at the blood around the edges before moving inwards.  “So where did you disappear to?” she asks.

“Hmm?”

Natasha rolls her head to look at him, and he can feel her eyes boring into his skull.  “I came by a few days ago and you were nowhere to be found, looked like you hadn’t been here for weeks, James.”

Bucky just hums under his breath, focusing on cleaning out the gash while he tries to formulate an answer.  It’s not that he wants to lie to Natasha, not at all...but he’ll do anything to protect Steve. The plan to get out, all those years ago, meant that they had both ‘died’ at different times, so while Natasha may have helped him get out, she was still in the dark about Steve.  Hell, he can count on one hand the adults who know that Steve Rogers is alive and kicking, and they’ve every intention of keeping it that way.

He just hopes that Natasha would understand, if she ever finds out.

“I am a man of mystery,” Bucky murmurs, reaching for the antiseptic and spraying it carefully over the cleaned out cut.  “Full of secrets.”

“Full of bullshit,” Natasha fires back.

“Sometimes I just need some time away,” Bucky concedes.  “Go someplace to...get my head screwed on right again.” He tapes the gauze into place, though he indulges Natasha’s hand on his head and leans into the gentle touch.  

“Now that, I understand.”  He tries to straighten up, but Natasha pulls at him until he’s hovering over her on the bed, hands braced on either side of her.  “You feel like some company right now, though?”

He allows himself to grin, feeling vaguely predatory and territorial himself at the sight of Natasha spread out on his sheets.  “I could be persuaded,” he says. “Though you may need some better foreplay techniques than kneecapping me as soon as I walk in the door.”

Natasha just arches an eyebrow and pulls Bucky in for a kiss that’s a hell of a lot more graceful than a kick to the leg.

**********

There’s a small, small part of Bucky - the part that’s still stuck in 1938 with an arm slung around Steve’s skinny shoulders as they wander down the Brooklyn streets towards Ebbets Field - that wonders what it’d be like to have that white picket fence life with Natasha.  Where she teaches dance and he creates structures that will last for centuries, and then they come home at nights to snuggle by the fire and talk about their days, over and over, and they’re calm and happy and together all the time. 

But, that’s not them.  Not in this time and place, not after everything that they’ve been through, separately and together.  They’re stolen moments in between saving the world, someone who’s been through the darkness and come out the other side, somehow still standing strong and upright and moving forward.

Hell, that’s why they work so well, Bucky knows.

Natasha snuffles quietly in her sleep and rolls over, pillowing her head on Bucky’s shoulder, utterly unconcerned by the metal beneath her cheek.  The thought settles warm and comfortable inside of him, and he brings his arm up around her back, running his fingers through her hair. He’s about to drop off to sleep when his phone buzzes with an incoming text message from the nightstand.  It’s probably not anything urgent, but he can’t ignore it.

When he opens the text message, it takes everything within him not to bust out laughing.  ‘ _ Dad thinks proper training means waking up at 5 am to jog with him for MILES, _ ’ the text message from Joey begins.  ‘ _ Will he stop if I set his shoes on fire?  HELPPPPPP, _ ’ followed by a string of frowny-faces and capped off by the poop emoji.  

It’s nice to know some things never change, Bucky thinks as he begins to respond to the message, ready to give Joey all the information he needs for dealing with an exceptionally stubborn Steve.


End file.
